


The Biohazard Chronicles: Ground Zero Vol. 0

by Flamingoverlord



Series: The Biohazard Chronicles [1]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-11-08 14:29:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11083518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamingoverlord/pseuds/Flamingoverlord
Summary: Rebecca Chambers thought that her first mission with the Special Forces and Rescue Squad would be a standard procedure. However, everything changes when she and her team are attacked by the undead. She and a convict, Billy Coen, must survive the night.A novelization of Resident Evil Zero.





	1. The Ecliptic Express

July 23, 1998

 

The night felt colder than it should have on a summer night. A full moon hung in the sky, illuminating a still Arklay Forest below. It’s beautiful, the man thought, watching the forest from his spot atop a cliff. It seemed not too long ago that he stood here, at the peak of his career, taking in the scenery. A light breeze disturbed the woodland. The light of a train shined between the trees as it charged through to its destination. Just on time, as usual.  
It’s time, my children, he thought, closing his eyes and raising his arms.

The Ecliptic Express barreled down the track, though the passengers on the train barely took notice. Just keep focused, Jeffery thought as he sat in one of the seats, looking at financial ledgers. The numbers started to merge, and he edged his fingers under his glasses. After rubbing his eyes, Jeffery took a deep breath and continued reading.  
God, it’ll be good to get home. Not to mention the relief of getting out of the suit he wore. A thump hit the roof.  
“That’s strange,” a man said to his wife a seat over. “I don’t remember there to be rain today.”  
Jeffery could have laughed. The Raccoon City weather woman, though easy on the eyes, couldn’t tell the difference between a hurricane and a sunny day. That’s what happens when a medical corporation tries to run a town. Another thump hit the roof, though this one sounded louder than the last. He glanced out the window. Not a drop to be seen.  
Something about that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.  
“Excuse me,” he asked the passing conductor. “How much longer till we reach Raccoon?”  
“Oh,” the elderly man said, licking his lips as he stared off. The wrinkles around his forehead deepened. “I’d say…maybe another twenty minutes.”  
“Oh, thank you,” Jeffery said. The conductor tipped his hat to him before continuing on his way. Stop being so paranoid, he told himself. Two more thumps hit the roof. Jeffery glanced up as though he could see whatever was landing on the train through the second floor. Suddenly, it was as though the roof was assaulted by hale.   
"What is that, Harvey?" the woman asked, to which the husband shrugged. Something smacked against his window. Jeffery's head shot to his right. What looked like six leeches—each the size of an apple—attached themselves to the glass. A thick residue clung to the window as their green bodies slid on its surface.   
“Wha--,” Jeffery said, letting his ledgers fall to the ground. The leeches’ stomachs opened simultaneously as if they were all one organism. Within was a mouth with several needle-like teeth. Jeffery leaped back with a yell. A scream came from behind him. The woman a seat from him flung to and fro as several of the parasites clung to her. Other shrieks and cries echoed throughout the train as leeches fell from the ceiling.   
Jeffery turned just in time to see his own window break. At least twenty leaches fell through, five latching onto Jeffery. He tried to brush them off, but as soon as they clung on, their teeth dug into his flesh. Jeffery cried as he felt his blood flowed from his body as quickly as if he sliced an artery. He thrashed, mind reeling. The discord of the other passengers became a blur. Finally, his vision darkened and Jeffery lumped to the floor. 

Screams radiated from the train as it passed just beneath the young man. He smiled.


	2. Distress in Arklay

Rebecca sat rigidly in her seat, hands interlaced in a tight grip. She tried keeping her breathing even, but it didn’t do anything for the rapidly beating of her heart. If it weren’t for the sound of the helicopter blades, Rebecca was sure that the rest of the team could hear it. Richard nudged her.  
“Hey,” he whispered. “How are you holding out, kid?”  
“I’m fine,” Rebecca said, doing her best to keep her voice steady. She glanced over to find Richard looking at her with that look—that half smirk and soft eyes. It was the look you gave a child. Rebecca straightened and checked to see if anyone else was listening in. Beside him, Forrest gazed off out his window. In the seat in front of her, Captain Marini and Kenneth stared straight ahead.  
“We’re all nervous our first mission,” Richard said. “Nothing to worry about though.”  
He’s just trying to make you feel better, she thought.  
Rebecca sighed, and turned toward the window to watch the forest pass below. Everything seemed to go so fast. It had only been six months earlier that she graduated from the University of Indiana with her Masters in medicine and chemistry. Rebecca remembered her mother’s face as she raced down the stage.  
“Your father would be so proud of you,” her mother had said.  
“I hope so,” Rebecca muttered. Granted, her mother hadn’t been thrilled to find out that Rebecca had taken a job with the RPD.  
Who would have thought her first mission was to investigate cannibal murders.  
Those pictures, she thought and cringed. One picture from the briefing stayed with her in particular—it was an infant, no more than three. The little boy’s shirt was ripped, showing a small chest ripped apart. Glossy bone of the ribs shined against the crimson meat. However, the boy’ face remained untouched. In fact, it had looked as though he were sleeping.  
Rebecca gulped, pushing the thought to the back of her mind. Her stomach felt as though it were being twisted.  
BANG!  
The helicopter descended too quickly for Rebecca’s tastes. Red lights flashed from the consoles as the pilot, Kevin, held onto the controls with a vice grip. The helicopter’s rear hit a tree, sending the whole cab into a spiral. Rebecca felt as though she were going to vomit. Her body warmed with adrenaline. The helicopter slammed into the ground. Rebecca’s stomach felt as though it jumped into her chest, and she had to swallow a few times to make sure no bile came up.  
“Unbelievable,” Kevin said, his voice muffled by his pilot helmet.  
“What’s the status,” Marini asked.  
“Dunno,” the pilot said. “Some kind of engine failure. I told Wesker these ‘copters need a tune up…”  
Rebecca watched the captain’s lip curled beneath his mustache.  
“Right,” he said, before turning to the others. “This doesn’t change our mission. Everyone move out. Dooley, do what you can to get this thing working.”  
Kevin nodded. Rebecca, who was closest to the door, swung it open and hopped out. She turned back to see Kevin give her a salute. She smiled and returned the gesture with a thumbs-up, before closing the helicopter’s door.  
The grass felt slick beneath her boot, and a low mist covered the ground. Under the eaves of the forest, the area was practically black.  
“Check the current position and investigate the surrounding area,” the captain said as Rebecca brought up the rear. She drew her handgun, body tense. The night was quiet, and not even a cricket made a sound. Edward edged toward her.  
“How’re you holding up,” he asked, his voice hardly above a whisper.  
“I’m fine,” she said with a small smile. “Just wish everyone would believe me.”  
Edward laughed under his breath.  
“Yeah, they’re like that,” he said. “They mean well.”  
“I know,” Rebecca said. “I just don’t want anyone to feel like I can’t do anything because—“  
“You’re only eighteen,” Edward finished. “Totally understandable. It’ll take time, but they’ll stop. Promise.” He gave her a little wink and continued on. Rebecca smiled, not knowing that she was doing it until several seconds later.  
Something glistened out of the corner of her eye. Rebecca turned to find an overturned van on the edge of a dirt road.  
“Captain!” She said, pointing at the vehicle. “Look.”  
Marini stopped. Even in the dim light, she could see his brow furrow. He shined his light on it, revealing ‘MP’ in black, bold letters on the side. The windshield was shattered. Two men in green military uniforms lay—one several feet away, while the other lay half out of the van’s cab.  
Rebecca gasped and ran forward. Her knees slid on the wet grass as she reached over and pressed her fingers to farther man’s neck, and then ran to check the other. No pulse on either. Her heart sunk at the realization.  
“Court order for transportation,” Edward said behind her. Rebecca turned to see him pulling a clipboard out from under the vehicle. “Prisoner, Billy Coen. Ex-lieutenant, twenty-six years old. Court marshaled and sentenced to death July 22nd. Prisoner is to be transported to the Ragathon Base for execution.”  
While Edward had been reading, Rebecca walked over to look at the papers on the clipboard. In the top, left hand side of the document was a mug-shot of Coen. His long, dark brown hair was slicked back with his chiseled face forward--green eyes pointed directly at the camera. Edward grunted, lip curling.  
“Those poor soldiers,” he said as the rest of the team gathered around. “They were good men, just doing their jobs, and that scum murdered them and escaped.”  
Marini took the clipboard from Edward, taking a moment to glance over it.  
“Alright, everyone,” the captain said. “Let’s separate and survey the area. Our friend is brutal and ruthless. Keep your guard up!”

The rest of the team went their separate ways, leaving Rebecca on her own with a frantic mind. She took a deep breath. It kept her body from shaking. Now’s not a time to freak out, she told herself.  
Rebecca jumped as a bird flew from a branch above her. Maybe her mother was right…maybe she wasn’t cut out for this…No, she thought, thinking of her father. He never gave up, and neither would she.  
What looked like a red wall became visible through the trees. Though, as Rebecca drew closer, she found that it wasn’t a wall, but a train. It looked as though it had been untouched, as though someone had just parked it there and walked away.  
Didn’t even know that there were train tracks out here, she thought.  
Rebecca looked up at the dark windows of the cabin in front of her. No sign of activity. Ecliptic Express was written in curving gold letters on the side. She grabbed the walkie-talkie from her belt and pressed down the button.  
“Chambers to Captain Marini,” she said. “Do you read?”  
Rebecca eyed the train. Coen could be hiding in there…or worse, the murders. Though, there was another question that was bothering her more—what was a perfectly good train doing here?  
A minute passed, yet no response.  
“Chambers to Marini?” she repeated. Again, there was nothing. She should go back and get someone…and then they would think that she would always need help. Rebecca straightened her posture--grip tightened on her gun--and walked toward the cabin’s door.


	3. Dead Train

“My God,” Rebecca muttered. Blood was splattered all over the green velvet seats. Suitcases and purses lay scattered. Papers and clothes from open luggage littered the elegant, gray floor or draped over the side of chairs. However, there were no bodies.  
I need to get the others, she thought. Rebecca turned, put her hand on the door’s handle, but stopped. It was faint, but she thought she heard someone’s voice.  
“Hello?” she said, her voice an octave higher.  
Rebecca waited. Among the silence was a low murmuring. The hairs on Rebecca’s arms stood.  
“Hello,” she said again, but to the same result as before.  
Rebecca took a few steps toward the door on the left end. Frosted glass took most of the doors upper half, with the words ‘Ecliptic Express’ laid over it in gold. As she drew closer, the voice grew louder. She grasped the bronze handle of the door, standing there listening for any other sound.  
Rebecca could hear her mother now—running in without a plan. You’re as bad as your Father was. She yanked, and the door slid open. The other side was much the same as the one she had come, in both design and dishevelment. Emergency lights shined over the thresholds. Rebecca was relieved that there was light, though it made her stomach twist when she saw the long shadows. A stairwell stood to her right.  
The voice, which had sounded like a whisper in the other room, filled the whole car. Then there was the smell—that sick, sweet smell of death.  
“This is officer Chambers from S.T.A.R.S. Bravo team. Please identify yourself,” she said, taking a step forward. Two rows of seats in front of her, Rebecca saw that back of a head. There was no answer, just the constant stream of babble. “Is there anyone there?”  
Rain tapped against the windows. When she finally reached the person, she gasped. A man sat in the window seat. He wore a gray suit—torn and bloodstained—and his skin possessed a darker hue. Half of his face had been ripped off, showing crimson meat. A portable radio lay on the next seat.  
“Oh, my god,” she muttered. There was no way around it now--she had to get the others. Rebecca went to turn, but the corpse rose out of its seat. Rebecca’s mouth dropped open. “Sir please sit down,” she said, grabbing the medical pack strapped to her side. The man moaned in response. Two hands clamped around her small arms, and the sick smell of death hit her harder than before.  
“Sir,” she said. The man stood over her by a foot, but all she saw was his eyes. They were completely white—no sign of pain or remorse. No sign of anything at all. Rebecca felt a scream bubbling up from her chest. The man bent forward, his mouth open. Rebecca held the man at bay with her forearm as he bared down.  
Rebecca positioned her left leg in between the man’s legs, and shoved him with as much strength as she could. The man tumbled back, and his grip weakened. The man’s head hit the wooden armrest of the seat across from him with a loud crack.  
Rebecca backed away. Was he…going to bite me? The man rose, a gash across his forehead from where he hit the armrest. Black blood dripped down his face. He moaned, though it wasn’t one of pain. It’s one of hunger.  
She placed a hand over her mouth, and then ran to the door at the end of the car. Rebecca bent over and heaved, but nothing came out. The image of that man still fixed in her mind like a picture. It was as though he were…dead. Rebecca felt as though she were about to be sick again.  
The corridor seemed darker than the one she had just left. On her right were two doors, and rain pounded on a series of windows to her left. Rebecca peaked into of the rooms only to find disheveled bedrooms. Rebecca followed the twisting hall to the end, to find a body slumped over on the ground.  
Her breathe caught in her throat as she kneeled to see if he was really dead. A dark hole was just visible between his eyes.  
“You don’t have to worry about him,” a voice said behind her. “He’s not getting back up.”  
A young man with dark brown hair stood over her and handgun aimed at her head. His broad shoulders were bare, wearing only a gray tank top. Black, tribal tattoos ran up his muscular, right arm.  
“Billy Coen,” Rebecca muttered, heart pounding against her chest. She thought of raising her own weapon, but as she stood slowly, looking down the barrel of Coen’s gun, the thought lost its appeal. The mussel followed her, the movement causing the dog tags around his neck to jingle.  
“So,” he said with a smirk. “You seem to know me. Been fantasizing about me, have you?”  
Rebecca clenched her left fist, while her right tightened around the handle of her gun.  
“You were the prisoner being transported for execution,” she said, as though to reaffirm to herself. “You were with those officers outside…” Who you killed.  
“Oh,” Coen said. “I see. You’re with S.T.A.R.S.” He elongated the last word, as if giving a mock realization. “Well, no offense honey, but your kind doesn’t seem to want me around. So, I’m afraid our little chat time is over.” With that, Coen lowered his gun and turned back toward the hall.  
“Wait,” Rebecca said, following him. “You’re under arrest!”  
Billy stopped and glancing over his shoulder.  
“No thanks, doll face,” he said, raising his left arm. A set of handcuffs dangled from his right wrist.  
“I could shoot, you know!” Rebecca said, raising her gun, but Coen ignored her. She grunted, taking a step to chase after him, when the window in front of her burst open and something jumped through. It took her a moment to realize that it was a person.  
“Edward!?”  
Edward pressed his back against the wall. His blue vest and black pants were ripped and bloodied. Rebecca slid to her knees, hands fumbling for her medical kit.  
“God, Edward! What did this to you?!” She said as she withdrew bandages, a package which held a needle and surgical stitching, and another package for a disposable scalpel. Rebecca tore open the scalpel packaging, and cut away at the ripped pant-leg. The wound under looked deep, but it wasn’t clean like a bullet hole or a slash from a knife. It looked like an animal bite. She turned to get the antiseptic from her kit, but Edward grabbed her wrist. His blue eyes looked glassy, almost as if he were dazed.  
“It’s worse than…” he muttered, his face contorting as though each word caused him pain. “We can’t…you must be careful, Rebecca. The forest…it’s full of zombies and…monsters.”  
Rebecca froze. Zombies and Monsters? That undead man returned to her mind, and she felt the urge to vomit once again. Edward’s grip slackened. He took a ragged breath, and his head fell.  
“Edward,” Rebecca said, taking his shoulders and holding him up. “Edward?!”  
Glass rained down on her as another window shattered. The thing that crashed into the hall landed a couple of feet away. A dog? The Doberman turned but chunks of its flesh was gone, revealing the red meat beneath. Glossy rib bones protruded from its side. The dog growled as it stared at Rebecca with pupil-less eyes.  
Rebecca’s eyes widened as she raised her gun. The Doberman leapt before she could fire. Its body collided into her, and the handgun flew out of Rebecca’s hand. The creature’s claws dug into the shoulders of her green shirt as it pinned her to the ground. A low growl came up from its exposed vocals. It opened its maw, saliva dripping, as it bent down for her jugular. Rebecca thrashed, looking for something—anything. Her hand grabbed something slender.  
Rebecca jammed it into the dog’s eye. The disposable scalpel buried into the Doberman’s skull halfway up the hilt, and gave a cry before it slumped over. Rebecca shoved it off her, panting.  
“Edward,” she said, sitting up. “Are you okay?”  
She reached over and placed two fingers on his carotid artery. No pulse. Rebecca’s breath went shallow. No, this couldn’t be! She waited for several seconds. I just need to calm down. Can’t find anything like this. After several more seconds, she still couldn’t feel a beat.  
Rebecca stumbled back, shaking her head. Hardly twenty minutes ago they had been talking in the forest and now…and now… tears trickled down the sides of Rebecca’s face. She gravved her radio.  
“Captain…” Rebecca said, her voice hardly above a whisper. “Edward’s gone…I need…I need…”  
I need help…


	4. The Leech Man

Poor kid, Billy thought as he opened a door and exited the corridor. One of the creatures lumbered around aimlessly, its head tilted up as though staring at the ceiling. The zombie’s odor intensified as it drew closer. Once the creature spotted Billy, it stumbled over its feet in its attempt to grabhim. A streak of dark, dried blood covered the side of its face.  
Billy raised his weapon, positioned the crosshairs over the center of the zombie’s skull, and fired. The corpse’s head snapped back. Billy waited until the creature fell back and lay motionless before continuing onward.  
She’s just going to have to take care of herself, he thought. The handcuff dangling from his wrist banged against his forearm. Its only purpose now was to serve as a reminder of his lucky escape. Those poor bastards though, he thought, thinking about those MPs. Billy shook his head.  
Not now.  
Remember the plan, he told himself, opening the door into the next room. Wait this out until morning, then get on the first flight to Mexico…That was, if he survived until morning. He had seen some things in Africa he still had nightmares about, but this…  
And that girl is on her own. That look in her eyes—it was one privates under his command used to have—shocked, wide-eyes with a hard, emotionless face. How they tried so hard to be hardened warriors, but at the end of the day, they were just kids.  
He stood in the dark train car, turning back to door he just passed through.  
“Damn it,” Billy grunted, and placed his hand on the handle. “You’re a dumbass, Coen.”  
Billy opened the door, and walked back the way he came.

Rebecca sat beside Edward’s corpse, trying to collect her thoughts. She leaned her head against the wall, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain. The hall filled with the zombie-dog’s rancid odor, though Rebecca barely noticed. Could all of this just be a figment of my imagination? Maybe I’ll wake up any minute…  
Things like this just don’t happen, right?  
Beep Beep Beep.  
Rebecca snatched the walkie talkie off her belt, almost breaking its clip.  
“Hello?!” She said. “I mean, this is Rebecca. Over?”  
Please, answer. Please, God, answer, she thought. Rebecca clamped her eyes shut, praying that it wasn’t a false alarm or the result of her weary psyche.  
“Rebecca…can you hear me?” Marini said through a blast of static.  
“Yes, Captain! I’m here!” She said.  
“Where’s--location?”  
“A train, I’m on a train. Captain, I need hel—back up. I need back up. There are…things on this train. They…got Edward.” She stared at the device, waiting for the reply. Only static came through. Rebecca’s heart felt as though it stopped beating. “Enrico! Hello? Do you read?”  
“Rebecca, I--hear you,” his voice came through the walkie talkie. “We’ve received detailed info--on Coen for a--in the vehicle. He killed--twenty-three people. It’s--confirmed he was institutionalized--guard up, Rebecca!”  
Twenty-three people? Institutionalized. Rebecca shivered when she realized that Coen probably would have shot her without blinking an eye. Then why did he let her go? He knew that she was going to arrest him…maybe he thought she wasn’t a challenge. Color flushed into her cheeks, and her fist tightened.  
“Copy, Captain,” she replied. Static came through the speaker. Rebecca waited for several seconds before she clipped the walkie talkie back onto her belt.  
I can’t give up. I’ve got a job to do. She thought. Her limbs still shook as she stood, stepped over the dog’s boy, and retrieved her gun.  
Edward’s slumped figure caught her attention as she passed. I should do something, she thought. But what was she to do? Rebecca snapped her eyes away.  
“Goodbye, Edward,” she said, before following Coen’s trail. 

Rebecca steeled herself and slid open the door leading to the passenger car. To her surprise, there were no corpses running around. The one in the gray suit she saw early lay in the aisle, blood pouring from its head. Rebecca walked over, using her feet to turn the body over. Blood spewed out of a dime-sized hole in the zombie’s forehead. Its white eyes stared up, decaying mouth slack.  
Rebecca wanted to bend down and examine the corpse, though she could imagine it lunging up. As much as she was repulsed, something intrigued her about the whole situation—what could have done this? She reached into her pack and withdrew a latex glove. Then, she dipped her gloved finger in the pool of blood beside the corpse’s head.  
“Coagulated,” she muttered, rubbing the sticky substance between her fingers. Definitely dead…at least now it is.  
The door in front of her slid open. Rebecca looked up to find Coen in the threshold. She raised her gun, and Coen did as well. He aimed his gun over her shoulder and shot. Rebecca glanced back just in time to watch as balding zombie in a brown vest fall back, blood pouring from the fresh wound in his left eye.  
“You’re a pretty bad cop, you know that,” Billy said.  
Rebecca felt her face flush. She raised, keeping her Beretta trained on him.  
“You’re under—“  
“Arrest,” Billy cut her off, not bothering to put up his hands. “I know, I know. But you mind reading my Miranda Rights somewhere we won’t get eaten.” Billy tilted his head, as though motioning behind her. Rebecca glanced over her shoulder. Three zombies rose from their seats as though awaking from a nap. Their heads snapped to and fro until they saw their only living companions, and then they staggered after the two.  
“Fine,” Rebecca said.

Billy didn’t stop walking until they exited the passenger cars. Rebecca’s boots clacked against the wooden floor as she closed the door behind her. Much like the rest of the train, the walls and floor were made of a dark brown wood. The walls were bare except for a couple framed paintings depicting grassy landscapes. A red carpeted stairwell hugged the left wall, and beside it was a metal door, where (from what Billy could see through the door’s glass window) a kitchen lay behind.  
Billy took a few steps up the stairs, despite the gun Rebecca trained on his back.  
“Hold it right there!” She said.  
Billy sighed. Damn, I can already tell this is going to get annoying, he thought banister.  
“Listen,” he said, tucking his own handgun into the back of his jeans. “This is going to be dangerous from here on end. Why don’t we cooperate?”  
“Cooperate with you?” She sneered. Billy’s eyes narrowed. Still, he couldn’t blame her, considering his track record.  
“If you haven’t noticed, little girl,” Billy said, and he couldn’t help to feel a tiny bit of satisfaction when she winced. “There are some pretty freaked out things on this train, and I for one wanna get out of here. I don’t think we have a chance doing it alone.”  
Rebecca glared, but lowered her handgun.  
“You expect me to trust you, a wanted felon?” she said. “I don’t need your help. I can handle this on my own, and don’t call me ‘little girl.’”  
Billy snickered. From this angle, she looked pretty cute, with her little green shirt and white vest. The police garb seemed like a complete contradiction when compared to her round face and pixie haircut.  
“Alright, Mrs. Do-it-herself,” he said, reaching out to pat her head. Rebecca swatted it away. “What should I call you, then?”  
“The name is Rebecca Chambers, but that’s Officer Chambers to you.”  
“Well then, Rebecca,” Billy said, walking back down the stairs. He leaned against the landing’s door frame, and crossed his arms. “Go play officer upstairs, while I wait here.”  
He watched as the girl’s eyes widened for a moment, but her face hardened and her back straightened. Rebecca walked up a few steps, and then stopped.  
“If you’re gone when I get back,” she said. “I swear I’ll shoot out your kneecaps when I find you.”  
Billy had to suppress another laugh, so just grunted in reply. As she continued up, he wondered if this was a good idea. 

It took a moment for Rebecca’s eyes to adjust when she reached the landing. Small dining tables lined each side of the car. Plates and silverware lay mostly untouched on white table clothes. The only light came from an emergency sign beside the stairwell, and a small fire clinging to a table cloth near the rear of the room. Windows lined the right side, the stormy night raging on just beyond the panes.  
Something gasped, and Rebecca trained her weapon.  
“Hello?” she said, squinting. A man sat at the table on fire. He wore a green blazer and red necktie, and his head bent down showing only his white, slicked hair. Rebecca approached slowly, lowering her gun.  
“Are you alright, sir?”  
The man didn’t reply. Rebecca’s arms shook as she remembered the last time she thought someone was alive.  
“Excuse me, sir,” she said, reaching slowly toward him. The man’s head turned—and fell to the ground. Rebecca yanked her hand back, stings of white slime clinging to her fingers. The decapitated body lost form and fell apart into tons of glistening creatures the size of a baseball.  
The creatures converged in the center of the aisle, the mountain their bodies formed shining in the dim light. A squishing sound came from them as the mount bent back and the bottom divided in two. The mass snapped back up.  
The mass was once again a man. Rebecca’s mouth hung open as she examined the creation. Every little detail seemed correct, except for the greenish tent of the skin and the wet sounds it made when it moved. The leech man threw back an arm and flung it at her. The limb extended twice its length. Rebecca dived out of the way. Her hip collided with the edge of a table, and she cried out. Rebecca quickly righted herself and shot two rounds at the creature. Both hit the creature in the chest.  
The leech man didn’t even recoil. It swung its arm for another strike when—Rebecca remembered Billy’s head shots. She raised her weapon, aimed at the creature’s head, and fired. The bullet hit with a wet sound, and its head split down the middle. Rebecca grinned, though her elation evaporated when the leech man dissolved. Little bodies darted toward her. She took a few steps back, but they leapt onto her before she could make it to the exit. They clung to Rebecca’s waist, climbing with pointed underbellies from her legs to her stomach to her abdomen in a matter of seconds. She screamed as she felt their smooth bodies slither onto her neck.  
The room shook with the sudden roar of gunfire.  
The force of the bullets forced her down, though she didn’t feel them pierce her flesh. Three leeches exploded once the bullets found their mark, making the others fall in a stunned state.  
Rebecca felt the strength leave her body and she fell to her knees, breathing heavily.  
“You okay?” her savior asked. Rebecca looked up and gave him a thumbs-up.  
Three leeches leapt at him from the remains of the creature. Billy darted left, pulling the trigger of his gun almost out of instinct, and the creatures exploded like the others before it. Billy landed on his side, but hardly noticed it. The surviving leeches slunk to the rear of the cart, climbed the wall, and exited through a corner of a shattered window.  
Rebecca sat for a moment, huffing, before she took a few deep breathes and stood. Her mind felt almost numb. Am I in shock? She thought. Maybe she was just beginning to adapt.  
A flash of lightening illuminated the room from outside. Billy caught a flash of a figure standing atop a cliff perhaps a mile or two away from the train. The man stood there, arms outstretched. Another strike of lightening hit, and Billy saw the slick bodies of at least a few dozen leeches crawling up to the figure’s feet. The man’s long dark hair covered his face, and his tattered white gown whirled around his thin frame.  
“Who is that guy?” Billy muttered.  
“Maybe he’s a survive—“  
The train shuttered. Rebecca and Billy’s knees buckled at the sudden jar. Lights all around the room flickered on. The train rumbled as it gained momentum.  
“Who the hell’s driving the train?” Billy said.  
“Maybe I should check the first car,” Rebecca said.  
“Alright, let’s go.”  
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea—“  
“Clue in girl!” Billy said. “We gotta start cooperating with each other, or maybe you like being worm bait!”  
Rebecca glared at him for a moment. This did make the second time he had saved her tonight. Still, Enrico’s words still echoed through her head. Was Coen just luring her into a false sense of security? He had had every opportunity to kill her (or just let her die, for that matter) if he wanted her dead.  
“Alright,” she finally said. “But I will shoot you if you try anything funny.”  
“Fine, fine,” Billy said. “Let’s get going.”

The young man watched as the Ecliptic Express barreled down the track once more. His body ached from the loss of his children. Those monsters. His surviving children coward at his feet.  
Eat them, their thoughts cried in a collective demand. Hurt them.  
“Alright, my loves,” he said.  
The man closed his eyes. Children slumbered in their sacks, hidden deep within the train. He could see them all—in their bubbles--hiding in air ducks, and dark corners of rooms and corridors. The young man showed them who dare murder their siblings.  
Within the Ecliptic Express, the leeches stirred—fueled by anger and hunger.


	5. Derailment Part 1

“This is Delta Team, Delta Team. We have gained control of the train. Over?”  
“Understood,” Wesker said, leaning into the microphone. Beside him, William gazed down shaking his head. He tugged at his red tie—a motion Wesker had seen William do many times when he was stressed.  
“This just doesn’t make any sense,” William said, not for the first time that night. “The countermeasures prepared in the event of a T-Virus leak were bulletproof. How did it contaminate the Arklay facilities, not to mention the train three miles—“  
Wesker grabbed the microphone.  
“That is irrelevant, Birkin,” Wesker replied, turning his head to his companion. Despite the sunglasses he wore, he could still see William clearly. His blonde hair covered his forehead, though Wesker could still see the ridges of his furrowed brow. “We must make sure that no knowledge of this gets out.”  
“Of course,” William said, rubbing his forehead. It was then that Wesker realized the dark rings under Birkin’s eyes. You poor fool, Wesker thought—picturing William slaving all day in the Raccoon facilities only to be dragged here. Birkin even still wore his lab coat.  
“Remember the mission,” Wesker said. “Reclaim the Research facility and destroy the train.”  
“Yes, yes,” William replied. “I’m surprised Vladimir isn’t here breathing down our necks.”  
“How far are you from the nearest branch line?” Wesker said, taking his hand off the microphone and speaking into it.  
“About ten minutes to—huh? “The Delta commander said. Suddenly, the tiny surveillance room erupted as the sounds of screaming and gunfire blared through the speakers.  
“What’s happening,” Wesker said, raising his voice to be heard over the noise. William winced. However, only ten seconds after the cacophony begin, it ended. “Delta team, report!” Wesker said.

Wesker’s voice came from walkie-talkie in the Delta commander’s slack hand. The black clad soldier lay, twitching from death spasms. A leech climbed out of the broken eyeglass of his gas mask and over his black helmet. Another man, also dressed in full black, lay slumped against the open door to the Ecliptic Express’s control room. Several of the creatures clung to both bodies, draining the corpses of blood before it could spoil.  
They didn’t much care for the humming of the engine to their right, nor the sound of the forest speeding past beside them on the left. However, they nevertheless, did as their queen commanded. So, once many had their fill of the strangers’ blood, they collected in between the two bodies. They climbed and clung together. It was almost like a natural process for them by now—the ultimate defense against predators. They knew instinctually the shape to take. Within seconds, the leech mass accumulated--bubbling as the mound rose—defining their shape until they took the form of a man.  
Images flickered through their heads as their queen told them how to exact revenge for their brethren. The leech man took a step. The collective creature staggered, torso leaning back. Its legs wobbled as the train rocked beneath. However, it straightened itself, and took another step forward.  
After several seconds, the leech man lumbered into the train’s control room. The creature turned its head, as though looking at the room with its false eyes. Nothing stood out—the only pieces of furniture being an armchair bolted to the ground in front of the controls and a large steel cabinet in the right corner. Rain pelted the windshield. The wipers swiped back and forth, though as fast as they went, they barely helped visibility. Below the windshield stood the controls. A faint, blue glow illuminated the keyboards from the light of the monitor.  
To the controls, their queen told them. The leeches complied. The creature raised its hand toward the machine. Like its eyes, the leech man’s fingers were a façade—unable to spread their fingers apart. Instead, it tapped on the console gently with the tip of its fingers. ‘Maximum speed—danger!’ flashed across the monitor. The leeches raised a hand and drove it through the screen. The message sizzled but faded to black. Dead leeches—impaled with shards of glass--dropped away from its arm.  
The Ecliptic Express shuttered slightly as it approached to a higher speed. 

Miles away, the young man watched from his cliff. He saw everything his children did, telling them each step.  
“That will do,” he muttered, opening his eyes. He wished he could stay there to hear the train’s inevitable derailment. And the screams of the murders within. The young man glanced down at the shiny bodies surrounding his feet. The leeches crawled up his legs, like a cat wanting affection.  
“Come children,” he said, turning. “We have far greater business to attend to.”

Billy’s knees shook.  
“Is it just me, or is the train going faster?” He asked.  
Rebecca followed, and closed the door behind them. The corridor now looked darker than it had last time she was here. She glanced out the window. The forest zipped by, though she couldn’t tell the difference. It was as though she could feel the momentum of the train.  
“We better get moving,” she said, leading the way.  
This is the hall Edward died in. The thought made her wince. Rebecca took tiny steps, almost afraid of seeing the body again—or not seeing it. She turned the corner. Edward lay as he was, head bent and rocking slightly with the shaking of the train. Wind and rain howled through the shattered windows above him.  
“Was he from your team?” Billy asked.  
“Yeah,” she said, her voice low. Her sight never left Edward.  
“I’m sorry for your loss.”  
Rebecca gulped, and she finally forced her gaze down the corridor.  
“I barely knew him,” she said, though her voice broke at the end.  
That’s even worse, Billy thought. You’ll never know them. He remembered all the young men that had been under his command, and how only a percentage of them came back. They had families back home—mothers and girlfriends and lives. Just thinking about it caused Billy to shudder. But, in the end, wasn’t that what they all were—stories unspoken?  
Billy shook his head, only to find Rebecca standing in front of the door at the end of the hall. I understand you, Doll Face, he thought, chasing after her. She wanted to carry on his memory with her—even if she barely knew him--but didn’t understand the burden behind it. He knew Rebecca would come to bare it—after all, she was a tough girl. 

Rebecca flung open the door. Wind howled through the open threshold, nearly knocking her down. A grated walkway lined the engines, leaving only a steel railing between them and the night on their left. Two bodies lay on the walkway, covered head to toe in black clothing. A glossy, thick liquid dripped from them. Other than rocking to and fro, the corpses remained still.  
“Don’t worry,” Billy said, stepping in front of her.  
“Who said I was worried?” Rebecca said, straightening her posture.  
“Whatever you say, Miss Independence,” Billy replied, waving his hand as he continued toward the other side of the walkway. Rebecca grunted, but followed him.  
“Who were they, you think?” she said as she kneeled beside one, wind nearly stealing her voice.  
“Dunno,” Billy said, raising his voice. He stood in front of the corpse against the control room threshold. “They look like some kind of stealth operatives, judging by their gear. But it’s weird.”  
“What is?” Rebecca said, standing and joining her companion.  
“There’s usually some form of identification—a patch, a badge. These guys have nothing.”  
“Maybe the government knows about this,” Rebecca said, though more to herself. Zombies and Leech Men did seem like something that fell under government jurisdiction.  
“Yeah, that would be just wonderful,” Billy muttered. He glanced up into the room. “Shit.”  
Billy ran into the room, and Rebecca followed. When she entered, he stood over the control console.  
“What kind of idiot would break the monitor,” Billy said, gesturing toward the shattered screen. Color flushed from Rebecca’s face.  
“You mean we’re—“  
“Out of control?” Billy said. “Yeah, at this rate it’ll either derail or crash. Not a damn thing can be done if we can’t see what we type…unless.”  
Rebecca followed Billy’s gaze to a lever on the far right of the controls. A sticker above it read ‘Emergency Break.’  
“Hold on,” He said. Rebecca looked around, however other than the chair, there wasn’t anything to hang on to. Billy grabbed the lever and pulled down—the lever stuck. “What the hell?!”  
“Maybe there’s something you have to do,” Rebecca said, turning her head to find a manual or anything that could help. She walked over to the steel cabinet and opened it. A couple of extra uniforms hung on a clothes hanger. Below, a double-barrel shotgun sat diagonally—barely small enough to fit within the narrow space. A red, leather-bound book sat on the shelf just above the hanger, along with six walkie-talkies and a case of shotgun shells.  
Rebecca grabbed the book. Ecliptic Express Operator Manuel was written in gold script across the front. A smirk crossed her face as she rushed back to the control panel. She slammed it onto the control panel and leafed through the pages.  
“Come on,” she said. The floor shook violently enough to make her knees to shake. Billy leaned in. Finally, she came across the article “Emergency Break.”  
“Automatic shutdown will occur upon engage,” Rebecca muttered, eyes flitting over the words. “Rear brake must also be engaged simultaneously.”  
“Who in the hell built this train?!” Billy said, snatching up the manual to read it for himself. Rebecca’s heart beat accelerated. Her body shook, though she wasn’t sure if it was her nerves or the rumbling of the train.  
“Okay,” she said, taking deep breathes. Rebecca walked back to the cabinet and grabbed one of the walkie-talkies. Once she programed it to pick up her channel, she handed to Billy. “I’m going to the rear. I’ll radio you when to pull the lever on your end.”  
Billy nodded. She took a deep breath, and headed toward the open door. There was no way she was ready to travel this train alone. Don’t let fear control you, she heard her father say. Rebecca raised her chin.  
“Hey, Rebecca,” Billy said. Rebecca turned, but grimaced. I know…be careful, stay safe. She could practically see that patronizing look the rest of the team had given her before in her head. However, when she faced Billy, his face was hard. “Good luck.”  
Rebecca stood there for a second. Eventually she nodded.  
“Thanks.” 

Billy watched Rebecca dart back out into the train. I should have gone, he thought, but shoved the thought away. That wouldn’t do her any favors. Besides, if something happened to her, he wouldn’t have to deal with her anymore. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.  
Don’t be stupid Coen. Don’t go trusting her. Only trust yourself.  
Billy clipped the walkie-talkie to his jeans, and then leaned against the control panel, but his body remained tense. It was always that way.  
“The side-effects of war,” he muttered. Had everything been worth it though? It seemed so long ago he had been that scrawny eighteen year old with an inflated sense of patriotism.  
“This is just what I need, Ma,” he had told his mother. It would be just the thing to wipe away their problems. Debts would be erased while he would be protecting not only his mother, but his nation. His mother would love him for it.  
“HA!” Billy said. How naïve he had been. Just the very thought of his past-self made his face flushed. Here I am, eight years later—Ma died of shame, and me, the ‘convicted murder.’ It wasn’t until now that he realized his fists were clinched. Billy opened them, wiping his sweaty palms onto his jeans.  
Now wasn’t the time for that.  
THUMP.  
Billy jumped. His eyes darted up. It’s nothing, Billy told himself. Just some leaves or something…just huge fucking leaves.  
Billy’s hand slid to the gun handle sticking out the back of his pants.  
Another THUMP rapped on the roof. The car shook beneath the force of it. Billy crouched. The metal roof split open as a giant, ivory pincher rammed through it. When the claw withdrew, it left a hole the size of a tire. Another pincer drove through the metal, staying there for several seconds before wiggling its self out of the crevice.  
Billy could only gaze up in mouth-gaping horror, wincing as he fell back hard.  
What has claws that fucking big?!  
A pincher wedged back into the hole in which it had created. The roof groaned as the creature on the other side pulled. Billy raised his handgun, but didn’t pull the trigger. What if he missed and the bullet ricocheted?  
What good is this pee-shooter going to do against that, anyway—THE SHOTGUN!  
The groaning of the roof now grew into a screech as the metal took on a curved shape. The creature wedged its other claw into the second crevice. The steel wasn’t going to hold for much longer—And when it breaks, that bastard is going to be in for one hell of a surprise.  
Billy jumped up, tailbone still aching, and dashed to the cabinet. He flung open the steel doors and the shotgun sat just as it had been. Billy turned on the safety to his handgun before tucking it into the back of his jeans. The control room filled with the cacophony of ripping steel, mingled with a sharp, staccato cry. Florescent lighting flickered and died as they were pulled from their circuitry.  
Rain pelted Billy as he tried to load the weapon in almost total darkness. He jammed in the last shell and snapped the gun shut. Something wrapped around Billy’s torso—something that felt as though were lined with tiny spikes. He gasped at the sudden pain, releasing the shotgun in shock. Before Billy could process what was happening, he was lifted out of the gaping roof. The claw released him, leaving him suspended in mid-air, before crashing down on the car’s roof several feet away.  
Billy gasped for air as he tried to push aside the chill of the rain, the ache of his side, and the phantom pain left from the pincher’s barbs. He glanced down. No blood. Billy pulled at the soaked tank top that clung to him. No wounds-just a line of several little indents across his torso.  
A screech made him turn back to the front. A scorpion the side of a bus stood over the control room. Its stinger towered over its body by at least seven feet, poised. Water trailed down the creature’s brown exoskeleton as it raised its massive claws and screamed, as though challenging this newcomer.  
Yeah, Billy thought. I’m definitely gonna need a bigger gun.


	6. Derailment Part 2

The door shut behind Rebecca with a resounding click. Unlike the previous passenger car, this one was darker than the former and relatively quieter. Rebecca didn’t spot any zombies tumbling in the aisle or between the seats. Though there was still that sound—a wet sound.  
Rebecca took a step forward, handgun tight within her grasp. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she noticed a body hunched over another in the aisle toward the back of the car. The zombie’s head shook, bending down and gnawing on the corpse beneath it.  
Oh, my God, she thought. They’re eating one another!  
Rebecca raised a hand to her mouth, though she wasn’t sure if it was to stop the scream bubbling in her the throat or the vomit threatening to rise from her stomach. The zombie froze. Rebecca raised her gun. Aim for the head, she thought. Nevertheless, she couldn’t bury the guilt welling within her. This isn’t some kind of mutated leech-thing—this used to be a human being.  
The creature rose. It wore a bulletproof vest with the S.T.A.R.S. logo stitched onto the back. Rebecca gasped.  
“Edward…no…” she said. Her stomach churned, and the threat of vomiting was renewed. Edward turned, arms outstretched. Thick, black blood dripped from his mouth and ran down his chin. A gray hue tinted his face, and his eyes were sunk in and white. A low moan came from his gaping maw. “Please,” Rebecca said.  
Her body shook. Edward stumbled forward, making no sign that he heard her plea, let alone understood it. Rebecca raised her gun again, though the crosshairs kept jumping around.  
“No,” she said. “Don’t come any closer.” Still, Edward lumbered forward. He stood a few feet away, so she could smell the sick scent of death clinging to him like cologne. Rebecca shut her eyes and fired.  
A BANG erupted from the firearm. Something slump to the flood. Rebecca stood there for a minute—eyes shut, trembling, and gun still raised. Her legs wobbled, and before she could stop herself, Rebecca fell to her knees. The pain of the impact forced her eyes open.  
Red. Dark, thick red. It was all Rebecca saw those first few seconds. Her eyes followed the puddle up to the source—the head in which it drained from.  
“I’m s..so…sorry,” she muttered through sobs. Her limbs felt too heavy. Everything that had happened that night crashed down, and its weight threatened to crush her. I just murdered him—No. It was a mercy killing. Even with this thought, it was hard for her to swallow. Rebecca could still hear Edward’s voice in her head, but it came from a far-off place—as though spoken in a time past than an hour or two ago.  
The puddle of blood edged itself closer to her knees, and Rebecca fell backward.  
I’m not ready for this, she thought. Mom was right.  
‘You’re not your father,’ her mother used to say. Rebecca tightened her fists. She grabbed the arm rest of the nearest seat and hoist herself up. Edward’s body still filled her vision. She had hardly known him. Did he have family back in Raccoon? Friends? How many will miss him when the team returns?  
If we return…  
Rebecca stiffened and raised her chin, despite how fragile she felt. She checked her magazine. Fourteen more bullets--only one used…She shoved the chamber back into the handgun. The sound of metal against metal was lost under the sound of the rumble of the train.

Rain stung Billy's face. The scorpion snapped its claw, as though taunting him. Billy's knees remained locked, afraid a movement would incite the creature to attack. The standoff remained for several seconds before the scorpion gave a terrible shriek. It reared its body and charged forward. Billy raised his handgun, firing a round into the creature’s flat head.  
The bullet hit it square center. Another cry came from the scorpion as it bucked once again, flailing its arms about. Billy's eyes darted to the opening to the control room behind the creature. If only he could sneak past it while it was dazed--however, the scorpion righted its self. It lowered its head and tucked it behind its pinchers. Billy kept firing, but the bullets bounced off the creature’s claws.  
Click. Billy pulled the trigger again, but all that would come from the handgun was the same disheartening click.  
“Shit,” he muttered. The creature darted forward with its claws still protecting its face. It slammed into Billy with enough force to send him flying back and tumbling over the roof. The handgun flew from his hand and clattered across the roof, until it slid off into the passing forest.  
Billy thrashed as he tried to stay on top of the train, legs dangling over the side. His torso ached from the strike. Still, he tucked the pain away. Not now, he thought, clawing his way back to the center of the roof. The scorpion howled, raising its pinchers as though in victory. After a minute of crawling, Billy stood, clutching his side. There had to be some weakness to it…some way to get past—  
Between the roof of the car and the underside of the creature’s body was at least a foot of open space. The scorpion’s six legs twitched—as though eager to attack once again.  
Adrenaline flowed through him, warming his body despite the cold of the storm. Billy gritted his teeth and ran. The creature grew closer and closer. It seemed to know it, for it revealed its face and drew back its left pincher. Billy dived. The pincher darted forward, snapping shut just centimeters above his back. Billy hit the metal, and the momentum carried him over the slick roof until he came to rest a few feet behind the scorpion.  
The creature turned its body to and fro, looking for its escaped victim. Billy’s feet pounded against the roof as he darted toward the opening to the control room. The scorpion gave a howl that echoed in the night air. By the time it turned around, Billy already dropped into the room below. He darted back to the cabinet where the shotgun lay just where he and Rebecca first found it. He snatched it, and then rammed two rounds into it.  
“Billy,” a voice said through static. Billy glanced around. There was no one else in the room. “Billy,” the voice said again, before he realized that it was Rebecca on the walkie-talkie. He snatched the device off his waistband.  
“I’m a little busy at the moment, Doll face,” he said.  
“I’ve disengaged the rear break,” she said. “Whenever you’re ready.”  
Maybe the sudden stop will force it off. The thought struck him so quickly that it made him stagger. Billy tried to remember if scorpions (let alone one the size of a car) stuck to surfaces. He ran toward the leaver. Just as he drew within arm’s reach of it, a shadow passed over the windshield. Billy dove back just as thick shards of glass rained down. One of the massive pinchers snapped open and close within the opening. Billy crawled back, shotgun still within his grasp.  
The scorpion’s claw reached in, extending nearly half of the small room. Its cry filled the room as it struggled to keep its body wedged in the tight space. Though, because of the narrow opening, the creature had minimal movement—leaving it wide open.  
Billy smirked. He took aim and fired. The gun recoiled into his shoulder as the buck shot hit squarely in the creature’s flat head. It shrieked once again as the impact blasted it out of its position. It tumbled over the face of the train, but snagged the edge of the shattered windshield. The scorpion’s body pounded against the train’s side like a ragdoll against the wind.  
“Coen!” Rebecca’s squeaky voice yelled through the walkie-talkie. Billy leapt for the emergency lever and turned it. 

The Ecliptic Express rattled down the track. The wheels bounced up slightly with every hit. Sparks flew from beneath as the emergency break engaged. The tracks split into two paths, and the train continued down the right track. Not only trees whipped past, but now wooden sentry towers. The Ecliptic Express turned the bend, and there stood the barricaded entrance to a service tunnel. The train crashed through. One last screech carried up into the night as the scorpion hit the side of the tunnel’s threshold, and its motionless body rolled off into the forest.  
The track ended with a smaller barricade—this one made of steel and braced into the ground. Wheels lift as it collided. With a groan, the front car tipped, arching up for a moment before crashing down on its side. The train grinded against the concrete ground for several feet, before it finally came to a rest.


End file.
